


take us to open skies

by kryptic_pear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptic_pear/pseuds/kryptic_pear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Game of Thrones on the streets of L.A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take us to open skies

At thirteen and Margaery knows exactly what poverty tastes like and she hates it. She watches her brother blow out bottles in the backyard with the pistol he found in the closet and wonders if they will ever leave this place. Her feet swing free, kick up dust. The air is dry and she doesn't flinch at the sound of the gun firing, just licks cracking lips and watches her brother hit every bottle.

At fifteen, Renly Baratheon blows into their life like the Santa Ana winds that rip through L.A. at this time of year. One day it's Margaery and Loras and the next thing she knows she hasn't seen her brother in a week. The next thing she knows there's no more bottles in the backyard. She looks up at the sky, blue only for the winds that have pushed away the smog, listens to her brother talk about a new future. 

Sirens mean something worse now. But still she doesn't flinch when guns fire in the yard. She lies still in her bed. Heat lays heavy on her like a blanket. Margaery waits through the shouts. The dogs barking. Waits until the door creaks open. Loras whispers, "Marge," like an apology, but it isn't. She doesn't say anything as she packs her things. Doesn't say anything although looking at the worn blue duffle that holds everything she's ever called hers in life makes her furious and hateful.

At sixteen, Margaery holds on to Renly's arm and stretches a lipstick smile for the boys. Cut-offs and a tight tee. She looks like trash. Licks her lipstick mouth and makes them sweat. She's not brave because of Loras behind her always, always with his gun and his newly shaved head. She's brave because she's been poor so long she doesn't give a shit for their hungry eyes on her. She's got a hunger of her own. 

Money tastes like cracking gum in the face of the Lannister bitch and not backing down. Tastes like steak in a dress that gets her looks while she flirts with the waiter and ignores her brother and Renly. Tastes like wet ocean air tangling up her hair while she suns next to Sansa Stark and thinks her spoiled and stupid. 

Money won't stick to her. Stay with her. Won't change her.

She remains the same, bare feet kicking up dust, watching her brother hit every bottle.

"No officer, I don't know that man."

"No officer, I don't know where my brother is."

"No officer, I've never heard that name."

"No officer, you want in my place come back with a fucking warrant."

"No officer, I've never seen that gun before."

Still she hungers. Burns up in the nights. Renly touches her soft and careful like he never made her brother yell in the room next to hers. Like she doesn't know. She wonders sometimes if he took Loras' virginity too. If it matters to her. If it should matter to her. So she arches up and scratches him with nails that can't hold polish. Leaves him covered in bites and bruises until he stares at her with his eyes blown wide on his own product. 

At seventeen, she feels old.

And Renly bleeds out in an alley that smells like piss with Loras by his side.

And the light goes out.

In the dark, you see only in flashes. Bare feet kicking up dirt, watching her brother hit every bottle. Death follows the sound of the gun and Margaery doesn't flinch. Sneers her lipstick mouth and cocks her hip like a gun. Hunting in the endless night. She follows her brother like a ghost. Or he follows her. Every where they go broken bottles follow. 

The night stretches on. She sleeps in snatches, burning, burning, burning. The Lannisters lurking around every corner. The Starks crying out for revenge. Stannis doesn't let them in the funeral. Loras curses them all with tears and bullets. She never knows him to miss a mark.

But bullets always run out and night always ends. Day in L.A. doesn't have a sun. Not through the smog that chokes their breath now. Margaery's feet kick up the dirt, watching her brother hit every bottle and listens to the sirens get closer. Margaery finds she's still hungry.

So they take the car and drive out from under the L.A. smog in search of the sun.


End file.
